


Comfort Food

by dracoqueen22



Category: Justice League - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover kind of, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wally discovers another one of Bruce's secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort Food

It wasn’t the first time he woke up to find that he was no longer sharing the king-sized bed with its owner, and Wally was certain it would not be the last. He yawned and peered at the clock, which told him it was a little after eight in the morning. Too early for Bruce to be up, but up he was.

Wally rolled out of bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and shoved his feet into slippers – a gift from Alfred who was officially becoming Wally’s favorite person ever – and tugged on a robe. He figured he would find Bruce in the Batcave, but first, Wally planned to stop by the kitchen. He needed to refuel because unlike most people, Wally couldn’t run on empty.

He fought back a yawn and sped toward the kitchen at one-third his usual rate, only to skid to a halt right after barreling through the double swinging doors. His jaw dropped. 

Bruce was not, in fact, in the Batcave. He was seated at the table in the kitchen – the servant's table so to speak – and there was a plate of pancakes in front of him. Chocolate-chip by the look of them, liberally soaked in maple syrup with a glass of orange juice nearby.

It was the single most unhealthy thing Wally had ever seen him consume.

He stared.

Bruce, of all things, blushed.

“You’re up… early,” Bruce commented with a cough. He set down his fork, pretending as though he hadn’t been about to consume the most calorie-laden dish with no nutritional return ever put in front of him.

Wally shook himself and planted a smile on his face. “Technically, I overslept. You’re the one who’s up early.” He strutted into the kitchen, whipped out a chair, and slung himself into it, right next to Bruce. He leaned into his partner’s personal space and peered at his plate. “What'cha eating?”

Alfred swept into view, setting a steaming plate in front of Wally, four times the stack of Bruce’s and filled with blueberries instead.

Man, oh, man, oh, man. This was why Alfred was Wally’s favorite. He beamed up at the butler, all traces of the sleep crud gone from his thoughts. Oooo, these smelled heavenly.

“Thank you, Alfred!” Wally said as the butler also placed a container of syrup in front of him.

“My pleasure, Master West,” Alfred said. He sounded very amused, despite his polite tone. Wally knew it was at Bruce’s expense. He resisted the urge to chuckle as he snuck another glance at his lover.

Bruce cleared his throat. “I am eating breakfast, something I have been told time and time again that I ought not to skip,” he said, and with all the poise he’d been taught, he cut into his pancakes and took a careful bite.

Wally grinned. “Pancakes though. Have to admit, didn’t think it was your style. Where’s the poached egg? The vegetable crepe? The quiche?”

“All of them have their merits,” Alfred said as he joined them at the table with his own meal, though it consisted of a couple plain biscuits and a cup of coffee. “This selection, however, is Master Bruce’s favorite.”

Was it just Wally or did the pink in Bruce’s cheeks darken?

Wally leaned in close enough that he could smell Bruce’s shampoo – he must have already showered. “Really?” he drawled before shoving an entire pancake into his mouth.

“Eat your breakfast,” Bruce said, carefully cutting another portion for himself. He sipped at his orange juice.

To the outside world, he looked entirely unbothered. But Wally had been with Bruce long enough to tell the difference.

For the first time ever, he found Bruce more than sinfully sexy. Now… he was kind of cute. Adorable even.

“And if I catch you breathing a word of this to Diana, I will inform her your preferred pajama choice, are we clear?” Bruce continued with a cutting glance toward Wally.

Ooo. Already moved into threats?

Alfred buried a chuckle behind his coffee.

Wally inched back toward his own breakfast. “Yes, dear,” he chirped.

Score one for the scrapbook.


End file.
